Kids' Stuff
by annabates21
Summary: Peter deserves someone who'll treat him nice. Davy IS nice. But is what they're doing really kids' stuff? PeterxDavy. M-rated.
1. Chapter 1

It was a disastrous double date.

By dessert, Peter's girl wasn't talking to him, and she ended up storming out of the restaurant when she found out that they didn't have enough money to pay for dinner. Davy's girl followed in a show of female unity.

Davy wasn't used to dates ending badly. Peter wasn't used to dates at all. So it made sense that this failure caused them both to feel a little down in the mouth. Peter's heart was as heavy as the stacks of dishes the manager made them wash up when he found out they couldn't pay their bill. Davy was unnaturally subdued. The walk home was quiet.

Eventually, the silence got to Peter, and he tried to apologize as they trudged back to the pad. "I really thought that restaurant was Le Gourmet. If I had known that it was Du Gourmand, and that everything was so much more expensive…I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Davy said.

"Maybe you can call Christy tomorrow and explain."

"Maybe." Davy was noncommittal. He stared at his feet as he walked. Eventually he looked up and offered, "I'm sorry about Alice. I know you liked her."

"Yeah," Peter said. "But I don't think she liked me."

"She probably didn't mean all those things she said. She was just – upset when she found out we couldn't pay."

The date hadn't been going smoothly even before they'd come up short on the bill. Peter might not have been smart, but no-one was that stupid. "I think she did mean them." He shrugged and looked straight ahead, at the beach house that came closer and closer with every step. Bed seemed like the most inviting place in the whole world.

It took him a second to realize that Davy had stopped. Peter turned back to him. He was frowning.

"It's okay," Peter said. It almost was. "It was really nice to have you there. For support. And to help with the dishes. I guess…I can't be that much of a loser if I have a friend like you."

Davy put a hand on his arm. In a low voice he said, "She's not worth it, Pete. Really. I'm not just saying that." Peter tried to smile, but he kept talking. "You just wanted everything to be perfect. I mean, the flowers…"

(had made both him and Alice sneeze)

"…the chocolates…"

(Micky had picked through beforehand)

"…that Valentine's card you made yourself…"

(the paint had come off on her fingers)

"You're a good person, Pete," Davy continued. "And…you deserve someone who's gonna treat you nice."

He tried to nod, because he couldn't say thanks. It was strange but after Alice walking out on their date, and the manager of Du Gourmand making them wash dirty dish after dirty dish – Davy being so kind to him was the thing that choked up his throat and made his chest hurt.

Davy noticed. "Hey," he said, catching Peter's arm and pulling him back as he tried to turn away. "Hey," he said, even softer.

Then, out of nowhere his hands were pushing down on Peter's shoulders until he got the message and bent his knees. It felt rushed and confusing and it only got more so when Davy reached up and kissed him.

Startled, his lips made an 'oh' of surprise, and then suddenly Davy's tongue was in his mouth, slick and soft and stroking against his own tongue in a way that made these lush waves of heat roll all the way through his body. His toes curled inside his shoes.

Davy had to stretch upwards slightly, while Peter had to hunch down a little for the kiss to work. Davy's arms were wrapped around his neck, while Peter's hands hovered around Davy's hips, not quite making contact. It was a silly thing to feel hesitant about. Davy was sucking on his bottom lip. Every so often, he caught it gently between his teeth, before returning to the deep, sweet, tongue-sliding kisses that made Peter feel like he was slowly melting. Davy probably didn't care where Peter put his hands.

When the kiss ended, Davy didn't draw back. He rested his cheek against Peter's and waited.

Peter's lips tingled. They felt like they didn't belong to him anymore. "What. Why did you. What was that?"

Davy turned his head and kissed Peter's cheek. "I'm trying to be nice," he murmured. "After all the trouble you went to," he kissed the corner of Peter's mouth, "you deserve it." His eyes met Peter's. "If you want."

To be honest, Peter found it awkward.

The hunching hurt his back.

His knees were locked in an uncomfortable position.

He still didn't know what to do with his hands.

And no matter how long he did it for, it was the strangest thing in the world to have Davy pressed up against him, kissing him warmly, ardently.

But.

He jerked his head once in a nod, and Davy moved in again, lips parted. And Peter stayed exactly where he was, his eyes closed, and his mouth working softly against Davy's. Because Davy was right and no awkwardness could even compare to how _nice_ it was.

Mike had once loaned him ten bucks to replace his guitar strings after Micky accidentally cut them all off with the scissors. But that didn't even rate against how nice _this _was. How nice Davy's lips and tongue and hands felt. How nice _Davy_ could be.

Which was _so very _nice that Peter almost began to think that 'nice' wasn't the right word anymore.


	2. Chapter 2

**Well shit. No-one's gonna review me now. No-one's even gonna see it now that it's m. Lol. **

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They didn't talk about it afterwards. It almost seemed like a dream to Peter – Davy kissing him in front of the pad. Peter had some strange dreams sometimes.

Davy didn't seem bothered by it either. He just kept doing what Davy did best – being Peter's friend and dating lots of girls. So it took a couple of weeks for what happened next to…happen.

Her name was Jill Goodyear and she asked Peter out.

"There's no way you can mess this one up," Micky said.

But as Jill kissed her brand new fiancé across the table, Peter guessed Micky should have had more faith in him.

He took his time getting home, because the date had been bad enough. He didn't need his three friends dissecting it further.

But when he got back to the pad, Davy was the only one still up. He looked up from the couch and smiled as Peter came in the door. "How did it go?"

Peter thought for a second. "Good," he decided. Because, after all, "Jill got engaged."

Davy's mouth dropped open. "You're _engaged?_" he hissed. He immediately fixed his eyes on the stairs, like he was expecting Mike to appear. Mike was like a barometer, only instead of measuring pressure, he measured problems. Also, he fixed them, so maybe he wasn't all that much like a barometer.

"No, I'm not engaged. Jill is. I think his name is Leo."

"Oh," Davy said. Then, "_Oh. _I'm sorry."

"Yeah." Peter shrugged. "It's okay."

Davy looked at him. "Sit down for a minute," he said.

As Peter crossed the floor, anticipation was already building in his stomach. There was no reason for it, unless you counted the small, assessing pause before Davy asked him to sit. Also maybe the memory of how nice Davy had been to him the last time Peter's date had gone bad.

It had only happened once. There wasn't any reason to expect it to happen again. Except he must have been expecting it anyway. Because when he sat down next to Davy, and Davy immediately turned to him, angling his head to the side, something tense and expectant eased inside his stomach. He met Davy halfway, head tilting the other way. He was ready this time.

And it was even better now. Last time, it had been kissing. This time, it was full-on making out. No catching up, no decorous declaration of intent, no starting slow and building up to something more full on. It was just this intense, focused make-out session right from the get-go. Tongues in mouths, lips working, hands– Peter even figured out what to do with his hands this time. And it was silly, because the answer had been in front of him the whole time. The best thing to do with his hands was put them on Davy. After all, it was only fair. Davy's warm hands were moving all over Peter's body, leaving heavy thrills of excitement in their wake. So Peter let his own hands slide up Davy's back, across his chest, along his arms, down to his hips.

Davy pulled away from his mouth, which left him feeling deprived, until he turned his head to the side and began to trail sucking kisses down Peter's neck. Peter's mouth fell open and he gasped at the sensation, which centered immediately between his legs.

Close as they were (Davy was practically lying on top of him) all this petting and touching and neck kissing was having a hard-to-disguise effect on his body. It was going to be embarrassing when Davy noticed. He needed to stop this. Or at least slow it down. Because as good a friend as Davy was, there had to be a limit to how nice he was willing to be.

His hand slid into Davy's hair, keeping him in place. Just a few more minutes, and then…

…maybe just a few more…

Davy didn't seem like he was going to call a halt to anything anytime soon, tongue delicately tracing along Peter's collarbone before returning to his neck. Still, it was a shock when Davy's hand slid up his pants leg from knee to thigh, before slipping over and cupping his hard on.

It wasn't just a shock. It was an electric shock. Or maybe not. Peter didn't think your first instinct would be to buck into that. It wasn't like he'd ever seen guys frantically rubbing themselves off against electric fences. Though that might account for Micky's hair…

Then Davy was unbuttoning his pants and slipping his hands inside Peter's underwear and the feeling of his bare palm against Peter's cock could've made him cry from how good it was.

Davy was obviously the nicest person in the whole world.

He curled his hand around Peter's cock and stroked him, and he didn't stop or slow down, even when Peter started to make noises, these choked off groans that made Davy kiss beside his ear and say, "Ssh. Ssh. _Pete_. _Peter_. We have to be quiet. Sssh."

But he didn't stop, and a few seconds later Peter arched up and came all over his hand.


	3. Chapter 3

**Ta very much to my two reviewers, caramelkaren & O'FoggageGreen!**

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There was a mark on his neck the next morning. It was at the bottom of his throat by his collarbone. His shirt covered it. But the skin there was extra sensitive, and it made him shiver whenever his collar brushed against it.

He didn't get a chance to talk to Davy about what had happened, because the next morning Davy met some girl called Donna when he went for a run. He came back and spent all of breakfast talking about her. Peter watched his mouth as his lips shaped compliments about her eyes and her hair and her smile, and the mark on his neck throbbed.

In the end, he didn't say anything. Not even a few days later when Donna disappeared from Davy's vocabulary. Things went back to normal until Peter met a girl called Tanya on the beach.

It was a little disappointing that his date with her turned out the way it did. But on the bright side, he was used to being tied up.

The guys rescued him before his arms or legs got too sore either. And the pang of regret in his stomach (she had seemed so non-homicidal on the beach) slowly dissipated with every sympathetic shoulder pat Mike gave him. Along with Micky's gently rueful arm punches. And especially the little circles Davy was rubbing at the small of his back.

Back at the pad, Mike gave him two helpings of jello. Micky did the dishes even though it was Peter's turn. It was real nice of them, but he couldn't appreciate those things properly. His heart clenched tight with anticipation every time he met Davy's unreadable brown eyes.

Alone in their room, Davy observed, "Tough day. You must be disappointed about Tanya."

"She seemed really nice when I met her," Peter said.

Davy agreed. "It's a lot harder to spot a crazy killer when she's wearing a bikini. It's like camouflage." He cocked his head to the side. "You look tired."

"A bit," Peter admitted.

Davy took his hand. "Come here. Lie down for a bit." He led Peter over to his bed. They stretched out on their sides, looking at each other.

After a while, Davy licked his lips and said, "Sounds like you could do with someone being nice to you for a change."

All this feeling surged up inside him because he was lying on Davy's bed, and it was exactly where he wanted to be. He'd imagined it when Tanya'd left him all alone, tied to that chair. So instead of answering, he leaned over and kissed him gently on the lips.

"I'll take that as a yes then?" Davy said. His smile was soft, and Peter leaned in to kiss him again.

Davy kissed back. For a long time that was how they stayed. Kissing on the bed. Peter thought it was worth going out for ice-cream and being kidnapped by a girl in a bikini if this was the end result.

Davy's hands slipped under his shirt, petting him with long soothing strokes that didn't feel entirely soothing. It ended with him half-naked and Davy's shirt unbuttoned all the way. Davy's leg was in between his, providing the perfect pressure for him to rub himself off against. One of his hands slid around the back of Davy's neck and the other tangled in his hair and he wanted to kiss Davy but he couldn't because he was biting his lip and there was this feeling gathering at the base of his spine and he was so close, almost there, just one last…

Davy moved back, and Peter couldn't help it, he immediately grabbed at his shoulders. He made a strange, desperate sound in the back of his throat too.

Davy smiled down at him before leaning in. He came so close that his lips brushed Peter's with every word he spoke. "Don't worry," he said. His words were a little amused. They came out so soft and warm Peter felt them wrapping around him like a blanket. "It'll be worth it. I'm gonna do you right Pete, gonna treat you so nice, I promise…"

Braced with his hands on either side of Peter's shoulders, he moved down his body. He started to unbutton Peter's pants. Peter remembered the couch. And he thought – his hand. Davy's hand. His hips strained forward like a dog on a leash, wanting it.

But when Davy managed to pull his pants and underwear down, he didn't wrap his hand around Peter's waiting, desperately wanting cock. Instead, he looked up at Peter and he grinned, a magician with a trick. He held Peter's eyes as his tongue peeked between his teeth. Then Davy bent his head and licked a tight circle around his navel before insinuating his tongue into Peter's bellybutton and back out again.

His whole body jerked. His cock became impossibly harder. When Davy's right hand came up to grip the base of his dick Peter thought he might have forgotten how to speak whatever language it was that he spoke. Then Davy put his mouth on his cock and nice –

- _Nice_

- _NICE _wasn't the word for this. Peter didn't think there was ANY word in any language anywhere to describe the feeling of looking down and seeing Davy's head moving between his spread legs. And that was nothing to the feeling of Davy – sucking his cock.

Davy had such a pretty mouth. Peter liked watching him speak, and sing. But looking at his lips - sliding up and down – his soft tongue - his warm wet mouth - stretched around Peter's cock -

Davy's eyes flicked up. It was that picture that did it for him when his head tipped back towards the ceiling and he couldn't look any more. Davy, sucking him off so good and so sweet, and looking straight at him.

He gasped for breath and came hard, hips lifting and feet pushing against the bedcovers.

He came back to himself when Davy took his mouth off him. Davy made a face, and swallowed. Then he hauled himself up and his arm reached past Peter, snagging the glass of water on the nightstand. He took a gulp, swished it around his mouth, swallowed again.

Peter didn't know whether to apologize or not. But when he tried, Davy just shrugged and said, "It's alright. It's not you – it's just that part."

"Oh," Peter said. "So you – you've done this before."

"A bit," Davy said.

Peter had a sudden sick vision of Davy consoling Mike and Micky for lost girls and lost gigs with blowjobs. His stomach turned over.

Davy didn't seem to notice. He was looking down at the bedclothes. He pinched a fold of blanket between his fingers. "A long time ago," he said. "I had this friend back home."

Peter could breathe again.

"Jim," Davy said. He looked up again and spread his hands. He smiled at Peter. "If you've got any complaints, you take it up with him. He's the one who showed me all this" –

Peter waited. "All this…?"

Davy looked at him. "Kids' stuff," he said.


	4. Chapter 4

"Kids' stuff?" Peter said. "I just used to play hide'n'seek with my brothers."

Davy laughed a little. He didn't seem bothered. But Peter felt weird for some reason.

"David. You and your friend. Jim. You did this kind of stuff together?"

"For a while." Davy raised one shoulder. "Like I told you" –

"Kids' stuff. Yeah." He looked at Davy. He was sitting cross-legged. His palms were open on his knees. His shirt was all unbuttoned. He looked relaxed.

It struck Peter that he hadn't gotten Davy off. Not once since this had started. He'd kissed Davy. He'd touched Davy. But Davy'd been the one to use his hands and mouth to carry him over the finish line. He hadn't returned the favor.

Maybe this Jim person was the last person to make Davy come. If you didn't count all the girls there had been since. And right now, Peter didn't. He didn't know why.

He crawled over to him. He rested his chin on Davy's shoulder for a second. Then he turned his head and said, "Lie down," right into his ear.

Davy pulled back. He didn't lie down. Instead he said, "Pete?"

He didn't want to say anything else. He was afraid his voice might shake with excitement and nerves. But when he put his hands on Davy's shoulders, Davy went down easy enough.

Davy looked up at him. "Yeah?" he asked, one hand catching at Peter's arm. His smile started slow but it lit up his face. And it was for Peter. His.

"Yes," he said. His voice didn't shake at all. He copied what Davy had done to him and licked his navel. Davy's stomach muscles jumped interestingly under his tongue. The only problem was he didn't know what to do next. No actually, he knew what to do. He just didn't know _how _to do it.

He glanced up at Davy. "So. This Jim. Um. Did he. What did he teach you?"

Davy's hands urged him up. For a horrible second he thought Davy was calling it off. Instead he pulled Peter close. He kissed him and when he pulled back, he said, "Well first of all, that it's okay to go slow."

Then he put his hand over Peter's and guided it. Down his chest and abdomen and to the hard-on visible through his pants. Then Davy looked right at him and lifted his hand away. So it was just Peter's hand touching his cock. Through some layers of cloth. But still.

Peter looked down because he couldn't not. He pressed his hand down harder, squeezing gently. He could feel Davy's cock jerk even through the material. He fumbled with the button and zipper, pushing his pants down, moving his underwear out of the way. Then he was holding Davy's cock in his hand, hot and hard, leaking precum.

It was strange. It didn't feel anything like when he touched himself. But it was good too. He knew it, because Davy told him so as soon as he began to move his hand. "It's good, that's good, so good Pete, just – harder. A bit harder, yeah," he panted.

Peter was torn between looking down because it was fascinating to watch Davy thrusting into the circle of his fist, and looking up. Because Davy was so focused on what Peter was doing. His eyes were closed and his lips were pressed together. Peter thought he looked beautiful. With his free hand he brushed Davy's hair off his face. He leaned in and pressed his lips against Davy's forehead, and he stroked even harder.

Davy stiffened and came. A few seconds later, his hands grasped either side of Peter's face and pulled him down. "Good. That was so good. You were so good," he assured him breathlessly, almost nonsensically, between kisses.

Peter kissed him back. He felt good, satisfied. Like he'd done something important, proved something to someone. Though he didn't know who.


	5. Chapter 5

**OK Fifty Shades of Grey lied to me. Smut isn't the new black. Lol!**

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He woke up in Davy's bed this time, his face buried in a pillow that smelled like Davy. That was nice.

Of course Davy was already gone. This took away some of the niceness.

And when he dressed and stumbled out of the bedroom, there was a girl at the kitchen table. She had bright eyes and red lipstick and her hand was on Davy's knee.

Mike got up from the table and motioned Peter to his seat. "Hey, Peter," he said. He nodded at the girl, "That's Vicki."

"Davy found her on the doorstep," Micky said.

"Hi," she said. She was absently running her red fingernails along the inside seam of Davy's pants.

Peter sat down harder than he meant to. Davy didn't seem to notice. He smiled at Peter. It was a sunny, genuine smile. No shadows. No secrets.

He managed to smile back.

He said "hi" to Vicki.

Then he flexed his fingers on the tabletop and stared down at them. He thought about last night and Davy's hands and his mouth and his cock until he could feel his face and the back of his neck turning red. Maybe even redder than Vicki's fingernails and lipstick.

It didn't matter. She didn't last the week.

After her there was Kara.

Ashley.

Jennifer.

Paula.

The girls made it very hard for him to figure out how this thing with Davy worked. Obviously, he couldn't have sex with Peter all the time. Not when all those girls wanted to date him. And Davy wouldn't touch him when he was dating some girl with coral lips and perfume on her wrists.

He shoulda talked to Davy about it though. Even though it was kids' stuff, some game everyone else just _knew _already. But in Cops & Robbers Peter had always wanted to be a fireman. At the very least he shoulda talked to Davy about the girls. But then he was trying not to think about them too much. And also anyway sometimes it seemed like he and Davy had sex precisely _because_ of the girls. Since it was whenever a date didn't go well that Davy tried to make it up to him.

If Josie hadn't told him to get lost after he stepped on her mom's roses, Davy would never have stepped into the shower with him. He would not have put his hands on Peter to help him wash off the dirt and potting soil. And he wouldn't have ended up licking water droplets off Peter's shoulder while jerking him off.

Or if Madeline hadn't thrown that glass of water in his face, he would never have learned how sensitive the skin of Davy's inner thighs was. Or that being licked there made him squirm and make these soft noises that drove Peter crazy. And he would never have learned how good it felt to take Davy's cock in his mouth and have Davy come apart under his lips and teeth and tongue. He also never would have learned why Davy made that face afterwards. That was less good. But even that he wouldn't have traded.

And if he hadn't gone out with Laura, Davy wouldn't right now be loosening Peter's tie. It made a long ssssshhhhing sound as he slowly pulled it through the collar of the shirt. This made anticipation ratchet down Peter's spine. Davy drew him into a kiss and then asked, "So what happened?"

Peter closed his eyes and tried to think. Now Davy was looping the tie around his neck and using it to pull him over to the couch and _oh_ that was even better. It was satisfying and teasing all at once because the feel of the soft silky fabric along his neck made him shiver, and the way that Davy wasn't touching him at all made him _want. _"What uh. The. I spilled soda on her skirt. And popcorn. Popcorn in her hair."

Davy tugged him down onto the couch. It felt like a reward. He hmmed sympathetically into Peter's mouth, and started unbuttoning his shirt. Peter let his hand wander from Davy's knee up to his thigh and Davy arched against him in approval. Like a cat.

"What - ummm - did she say?" Davy asked. He sounded absent, absorbed in kissing under Peter's jaw.

Peter wondered if he could make him purr. He slid his hands under his pajama top and rubbed his belly. Davy arched under him again.

"Oh. Uh. She said it was okay." He let one hand skate upwards, pushing up Davy's pajama top, exposing his chest. The other stayed where it was but he let the tip of his pointer finger just dip under Davy's waistband. "She said scary movies make her jump too."

Davy went very still. Then he pushed Peter off him and scrambled to sit up. Peter sprawled awkwardly on the floor. Davy didn't apologize or seem to notice. His chest rose and fell very fast but his voice came out very normal as he said, "Doesn't sound so bad to me. Sounds to me like you've got yourself a girlfriend."

He smiled. Peter's hip started to hurt where he'd landed on it.

"But – it was still a bad date. I spilled soda on her," Peter reminded him. He reached out to touch Davy's knee, but Davy shifted over so he ended up touching the couch.

"That doesn't matter," Davy said. He paused. "Did she tell you she never wanted to see you again?"

"No."

"There you go. She's your girlfriend."

Peter suddenly realized that kids' stuff was more complicated than he'd thought. He felt cheated. "But we didn't even kiss."

"You will. Next time. Don't worry about it," Davy told him.

He _wasn't_ worrying about that. He was worrying about the fact that "bad date" no longer seemed to mean, "sex with Davy" afterwards.

"It was bound to happen eventually," Davy said, looking at him. He smiled again, then got to his feet. He patted Peter on the shoulder before walking away.


	6. Chapter 6

Laura did let him kiss her on the next date. It was…nice was the word he _might _have used. Well before Davy gave him a whole new definition of the word anyway. But going by Davy's version of 'nice', the peck he shared with Laura on her front doorstep was almost offensively rude. By comparison.

It wasn't... Peter didn't mean... It wasn't that he didn't _want _to kiss her. It was just...

Okay, he _didn't_ want to kiss her – _if_ kissing her meant that he wasn't allowed to kiss Davy. And all of a sudden it looked like it did mean that.

For something that Davy called "kids' stuff" the rules were a lot more complicated than Peter figured at first.

He took Laura to the park, and she fell in the lake and Peter got attacked by a swan trying to fish her out. He had a throbbing bump on his head and he had nightmares about swans for a couple of days. Before, that would have entitled him to petting and kisses and blowjobs. Now it just meant that Davy clicked his tongue in sympathy and didn't complain when Peter's bad dreams woke him up.

He did hold Peter's head while Mike bandaged it. But that wasn't the same.

Lots of other bad things happened on Peter's dates. One time he brought Laura on a picnic and she bit into an apple and it had a worm in it. Once he knocked over a candle and nearly set the restaurant on fire. Another time her dad thought he was a burglar and punched him in the face.

It was frustrating because once Peter had stepped on a girl's toe and Davy had brought him off twice that night. Once in his hand, and then after he'd come the first time, he'd crawled over him and licked his cock until it was standing straight up against his belly again and Peter thought he might die because it was so good and also he couldn't breathe anymore.

But even though he hopefully mentioned every disaster that happened on dates with Laura, all Davy ever did now was pat his shoulder understandingly. That was okay, but he _really missed_ the petting and the kisses and the blowjobs.

The bad dates still happened. So as far as he could see, the only thing that had changed was that this time his date didn't hate him afterwards. Peter thought about it. Really there was only one thing to do.

He opened the bedroom door as quietly as he could. But he heard the bedclothes shift as he turned the knob and closed the door behind him.

"Hey," Davy said drowsily.

"Hey."

"How's Laura." He half-yawned.

"Okay. I think. We broke up."

The bedclothes stopped rustling.

"Oh. M'sorry."

"Yeah," Peter said. He sighed. It hadn't been a good night. She had been upset and it wasn't like he _wanted _her to hate him.

Davy threw back a corner of the bedclothes. "You wanna sleep with me tonight?"

"Yeah." His voice was scratchy. He cleared his throat. "Yes."

Davy was asleep again by the time he had taken off his clothes. He shifted over easily when Peter got into the bed though. And the next morning when he woke up, he caught Peter's wrists and pinned them above his head. Then he carefully held his body away, but he bent his head and licked Peter's nipples until they were stiff and he got so frustrated when he managed to pull one hand free he just grabbed Davy, and made him crash gracelessly onto the bed. He laughed warmly into Peter's neck and thrust against his hip while Peter arched his head and laughed breathless up at the ceiling and rubbed himself off on Davy's thigh and afterwards he couldn't decide what had been better, the laughing or coming.

They lay collapsed on the bed after. Davy brushed the hair out of his eyes. "Feel better?"

"Yeah." He felt unknotted. He felt like he could breathe right again.

Davy kept smoothing his hair. Even though it was definitely out of his eyes by now. "It's Laura's loss, Pete. She doesn't know what she's missing."

Peter smiled a little, touched. "It's okay. It's not her fault. I'm the one who broke up with her." He stroked the inside of Davy's arm.

When Peter looked up, Davy was frowning down at the sheets. "Why? What. What did she...Did she do something?"

"What? No. No. Laura was ni-great." The skin from Davy's elbow to his wrist was so smooth against the backs of Peter's fingers.

"Then why...Why would you."

Davy's eyebrows were drawn together. Peter slid his fingers down his arm again and placed his hand over Davy's. "She was great. But." He shrugged. Looking at Davy, and remembering the last couple of miserable dates it just came out. "She just wasn't – what I wanted."

"Oh." Davy didn't move. He didn't pull his hand away. He just looked at him. But Peter could feel him withdraw somehow. He felt cold. Davy cleared his throat. His eyes were very gentle. "Pete. Us. This. I don't…think we should do this anymore."

His throat hurt. "What? Why not?"

"I just. Don't think it's a good idea anymore." Davy slowly pulled his hand out from under Peter's.

"But why?"

"It doesn't matter. Really. In a couple of days you'll find another girl."

This was by no means certain. He wasn't _Davy. _Anyway, Peter thought it missed the point. "But I don't _want_ another girl. I don't want _any _girl."

"Yeah well – you will." Davy was firm.

"But – if I don't want a girl, why do I have to look for one? _Why_. Why can't we just." He reached out and touched Davy's arm.

Davy shrugged him off. It was like a flinch. But his voice was soft and regretful. "Because it just. It doesn't work like that, Pete."


	7. Chapter 7

For the next two weeks, Davy dated a lot of girls. Davy always dated a lot of girls. But this was different. Now most nights he didn't come back to the pad at all.

Micky whistled. Mike shook his head. Peter felt miserable. It was like he had a waterballoon in his chest getting bigger and heavier every day. A couple of nights when he found it hard to sleep he even crawled into Davy's empty bed.

He tried really hard to understand what had gone wrong.

He didn't get it until they were sitting all four in this diner. Mike had been talking about it for ages. It was really cheap, but the food didn't make you sick (once you stayed away from the clams). Peter looked across at Davy and forgot what he wanted to order when the waitress came. He stared up at her. His mind was blank.

"Maybe you could come back to Pete," Davy said. He looked at Peter than smiled at the waitress. Later he called her over twice for extra napkins and more sauce. "She's nice," he said. When everyone agreed, he winked at Peter. Then when they were all finished, he sent Peter to pay the bill.

When Micky doubled back and asked her out, Davy didn't say anything. But Micky rolled his eyes and said, "What? I can't help it if she said yes. And Pete didn't even _ask._"

That night Davy came home. It was late, but Peter was still awake. He didn't say anything. He just watched Davy change for bed through cracked eyelids. Davy turned out the light and got into bed.

Peter thought about what happened at the diner. He threw back the covers and stood up.

"David. I want to...Can I talk to you?"

At first he didn't think Davy was going to answer. His words came out slow. "Yeah. Okay. What is it?"

Davy was turned on his side. He faced away from Peter. He waited, but Davy didn't move.

Peter pulled back the bedclothes and got in behind him. Then Davy tried to move. "What are you. _Pete_. No."

Peter put his arms around him. "Just for a minute. I just. I just want to talk."

Davy stopped trying to move but his body was tense. Peter stayed for a while stretching out the feeling of Davy in his arms as long as he could. Then Davy took a breath and shifted like he was going to pull away. Peter rested his forehead between Davy's shoulders. He whispered, "I've been thinking. Listen – I don't. I don't want to date any girls. Not now. But...That doesn't mean. I'm not saying _you _can't date them."

It was the only explanation he had for Davy's sudden change.

"It's okay. I don't mind. Just...we can go back to how things were. Not all the time," he said quickly. "Just. In between girls."

Davy jerked in his arms. But Peter tightened his grip. He kissed Davy's shoulder through his pajama top. "Just in between the girls," he insisted. "That's all."

Davy shook his head. "No," he said. "No. no. no. Peter. _no_." He kept shaking his head even when he struggled free and turned to him. "We can't. Not anymore."

"Why not?" Peter demanded.

"It just...That's not how it works." Davy sounded frustrated too.

"Well then you have to explain to me how it works. Because I don't understand it. Because before...before we couldn't have sex when I had a girlfriend. But then when I didn't have a girlfriend anymore, we still couldn't have sex. And I don't. I don't _understand._" There was a quiver in his voice.

"Pete...Peter. This thing...It's. It's something that happens – it's something you do in between girls."

"But I said" – Davy put his fingers on Peter's mouth so he couldn't answer back. "And it's okay to like it. But you can't – like it _too_ much because it just causes problems. And you can't. You can't break up with girls just so you can keep doing it."

Peter looked down. "So you can like it, but not too much? I don't...I still don't get it."

His chest ached. He didn't think arguing with Davy was helping it. But he couldn't stop. He felt Davy's fingers on his chin, tipping it up.

"You don't _want_ to get it, you mean."

He kept looking away. He wouldn't meet his eyes. He heard Davy sigh. Then out of nowhere he leaned in and kissed the corner of Peter's mouth. He told him, "You have to keep looking." He kissed Peter's chin. "Because one day," he kissed his cheek. "One day you're going to find a girl." He kissed his forehead. "And not just any girl." His other cheek. "The _right_ girl for you. I promise."

The kisses were soft and brief. Finally he kissed Peter's mouth, but as soon as he tried to kiss back, Davy pulled away. "_Then_ you'll get it," he told him with finality.


	8. Chapter 8

Davy kept dating. But not as much as he had been. Maybe he thought Peter had finally got the message.

Peter hadn't. It didn't make sense to him to begin with and the more he thought about it the less sense it made. He could have sex with Davy, but he couldn't like it too much? Sex wasn't a chore or a punishment. _Of course_ he was going to like it.

Anyway what harm could liking something do? No-one had ever said "Tork, you can play the guitar but don't practice too often. You don't want to get a taste for it." Or "Tork, you can make friends but try not to care about them. You know how awkward that gets."

No matter how he looked at it, it was dumb. It might've been the dumbest thing Peter ever heard. He didn't get to say that too often.

So he made a couple of awkward passes at Davy. After Davy told Micky he was breaking up with Alexandra, he waited up until Davy came home.

"I just…I heard. What you said to Micky," he said when Davy opened the bedroom door. "And…you always waited for me. And I thought…maybe – maybe it was my turn this time."

He tried again after Davy's next girlfriend Hilary suddenly stopped hanging around. Davy came in and sat on the couch and he was wearing his red swim trunks and his hair was still damp from swimming and Peter wanted to just lean in and kiss his salty skin. So he did.

It didn't feel smooth and easy when he did it. The way it always had when Davy'd done it. Maybe that was why he didn't get what he wanted either time.

He was tempted to keep trying though. Even though Davy always said no, he did it with long hugs and comforting strokes up and down his back. He rested his chin on Peter's shoulder and whispered warm, regretful things in his ear.

If Peter coulda just ignored the fact that he was saying "no", it would have been perfect. But he always ended up by saying, "Pete – you shouldn't…you shouldn't be waiting for me."

"Then don't make me wait," Peter told him both times, and tried to kiss him. Or tried to put his hands in Davy's swim trunks. Because he didn't know a lot of things, but this was simple. How could Davy not see it?

But Davy didn't. It just wasn't fair.

"Laura was a great girl," Mike said to him one day as they sat on the stairs. "But. You broke up with her a while ago. Don't. Um. Don't you think it's time you got over it?"

"I'm not upset about Laura."

"You're not? Then what's got you so down?"

Peter didn't say anything.

"Come on man," Mike urged. "You've been like this for the last three weeks now. What's buggin' you?"

He _did _have a problem. And Mike was good at solving problems. But it probably wasn't such a good idea to say, "I'm upset because Davy won't have sex with me anymore."

Instead he said, "I'm upset because Davy won't sleep with me anymore."

He waited for Mike to solve his problem. Mike made a funny face. "Uh…huh," he said. He got to his feet. "I'm going to have to think about that one," he said.

Micky made the same face. But he also said, "Davy doesn't want to sleep with you? I have the answer."

"What?"

"Sleep with someone else."

When Peter told him that he didn't want to sleep with anyone else, Micky shrugged. "That's another problem."

Someone must've said something to Davy. Because a few nights later he sat on Peter's bed and said, "Pete. What happened…what we were doing. Maybe you shouldn't talk about it too much with people. I know you're feeling. Um. And Mike and Micky are okay, but." He stopped.

Peter stared down at the bedcovers.

"I mean, if you said it to someone else, some girl, it might make things awkward for you" –

"I don't want some girl."

Davy smiled. It was a very small smile. "But if she's the girl of your dreams…you're gonna want to be able to forget about this. You don't want it to get in the way."

"Maybe I don't _want_ to meet the girl of my dreams. Not if it means I've got to forget _you_."

He hadn't even met this girl Davy kept talking about yet but already he didn't like her.

Davy pressed his forehead against Peter's. "I know it's not…what you think you want. Not right now. But…I'm just trying to look out for you here, Pete."

"I don't want you to look out for me. I want you to _listen_ to me." Peter put his hands on Davy's neck. Davy put his own hands over them and lifted them off. Then he pulled back.

"You liked it, didn't you?" Peter asked. "Maybe not everyday, or anything, but…sometimes. Right?"

"_Pete_," Davy said. But when Peter just looked at him and didn't say anything he said, "Yeah. I liked it."

"So – what. Just because I don't want to…to meet some girl, we can't do _anything. _Even when we both want to?"

Davy didn't say anything.

"Is this how it worked with your friend?"

Davy looked at him. "Yeah. This is how it worked."

There was no arguing with that. But. "Please...Can you take off your clothes?" he asked.

Davy jerked on the bed. "I. Peter. It's not" –

"No touching. Or kissing," Peter said. "I just. I want to look at you. Or can't I do that now, either?"

Davy's mouth worked.

"You have to get ready for bed anyway." He looked at Davy. "Please."

Davy didn't move. Then slowly he got to his feet. He reached up and unbuttoned his collar button. Still looking at Peter. He moved down to the next button. And the next.

That was all Peter needed. Not even the flash of skin. Just Davy's fingers unbuttoning his shirt and knowing he was doing it for him. His cock started to fill and rise underneath the bedclothes.

Davy pulled off his shirt. He dropped it on the floor. His hands went to his belt. Then paused.

"Don't stop," Peter said. Then absently, "Please."

He unbuckled the belt and pulled it through his belt loops. It was very hard to keep his hands above the bedclothes. Davy unbuttoned his pants, and stepped out of them. Peter could see the line of his erect cock through his underwear. His own erection ached, and his hands finally slipped under the covers. He couldn't stop from making a soft noise as he touched himself.

Davy's hands stopped again as he looked at Peter. "Please," he said again. "David, oh, please, just please just" –

He tried not to blink as Davy awkwardly untangled himself from his underwear and pushed it down his legs. He stared at Davy's body, short but sturdy, well-made. His hands, twitching against his strong thighs, his smooth chest, his lips, the beads around his neck, his cock standing flushed and stiff – and he tried to keep his eyes open for as long as possible as he thrust up into the circle of his own hand.

He was concentrating so hard on touching himself and on looking that he didn't realize that Davy was speaking. Not at first. He noticed first that Davy had shifted position. His hands weren't resting awkward against his thighs anymore. One was rubbing just under his navel, almost brushing his cock. The other was resting in the crease of his hip as he stared back at Peter. Then he became aware of Davy's voice.

"Pete – _oh, _Pete you are, you just. I want to _see_. I want. I want to _touch_ you."

Peter had to close his eyes. "Well you can't," he choked out as he felt the sweet familiar pulsing sensation. His head tipped back. He had to take a few deep breaths before he could open his eyes and look at Davy again. "That's not how it works."


	9. Chapter 9

Davy started changing in the bathroom after that. Peter really wasn't used to _other_ people acting so dumb.

It didn't help that Mike never got back to him with his thoughts on the situation either. Once Peter tried to bring it up. But the coughing fit meant Mike couldn't give him any good advice. He had a feeling Mike might have talked about it with Davy though.

Micky was Micky. So Peter was on his own.

He didn't know what to do. So...he waited. He waited, and he looked at Davy. At breakfast in between bites of toast. During practice when Mike and Micky ironed out a tricky section on the drums. In the bedroom before Davy switched off the lights.

It wasn't much, but it was all he had. It was even a kind of defiance. He'd already proved that Davy couldn't take _looking_ away from him. Davy just ignored him and kept going like everything was normal, but it had to be having some effect because one morning as Peter watched him raptly across the table, he twitched and lowered his cereal spoon before it even reached his mouth.

"I think you should start dating girls again," he said. His voice came out loud in the silence.

It was the first time Davy had mentioned anything about it since he'd stood naked in front of Peter while Peter touched himself. So Peter knew this was important. This was his chance to really _talk _to Davy. He could make him see how dumb and stupid this whole thing was.

He crossed his arms. "I don't want to. You can't make me."

But it turned out he could because later when Peter came back from a walk he had two girls waiting in the pad. The table was set. In the middle there was a vase with a single red rose in it.

"Peter!" Davy caught him by the arm and pulled him over to the girls. "You know Vera."

He did. She smelled expensive (Davy said it was some French perfume) and she had a habit of linking her arm through Davy's like he belonged to her.

"And this is my friend, Beth."

She looked a little like Vera, but with darker hair.

"Well now that Peter's finally here, maybe we can sit down and eat," Vera said. When she smiled she didn't show any of her teeth.

It wasn't like he could say no. Vera and Beth were right there and Davy was already pulling out Vera's chair. So he sat down and protested in the only way he knew how. He looked at Davy.

He looked at him while he was pouring Vera's soda into a glass for her. He looked at him while they ate their salads. He looked at him while Vera's voice chattered on in the background.

He knew Davy knew because he didn't meet Peter's eyes even once while Peter stared mutely, unswervingly at him.

He only snapped out of it when Beth said, "Hey_ dummy,_ I asked you a question!"

"Don't call him that," Davy snapped at her.

"Don't you talk to my friend like that!" Vera's mouth was a thin red line. "Or do you think it's perfectly polite to sit in silence for a whole date?"

"More polite than calling someone names," Davy said.

It was another disastrous double date. Except this time no one stormed out, which made it worse. The tension screamed as Vera and Beth took angry bites of dessert and made small talk with each other.

Peter was glad when Vera's dad pulled up outside the pad to pick them up. Davy helped her put on her coat but he didn't try to kiss her. Peter didn't think it was because her dad was outside either.

He held out Beth's coat to her, but she said, "Don't bother. I'll do it myself."

Davy closed his eyes as the door shut behind them. Then he pushed past Peter and went into the bathroom without a word.

He left the door open, so Peter followed him, and shut it. He watched Davy splash cold water on his face. He stayed bent over the sink for a second before turning. He walked back to stand in front of Peter.

Peter wasn't going to say he was sorry, because he wasn't.

"I'm sorry," Davy said. Then his hands were on Peter's face pulling him down and kissing him. For a second he was too surprised to do anything, but then he wrapped his arms around Davy and kissed back hard. This time Davy didn't pull away.

It was fast and desperate like Davy'd been missing it as much as he had. He kissed with deep searching focus like maybe he wanted to be able to pick Peter's mouth out of a police line up. Blindfolded.

His hands were on Peter's hips and he backed him up against the door and that was the first chance Peter got to tear his lips away and gasp for breath. That wasn't a complaint. But it did give him time to think.

"Listen. Davy…David. Um. I want…" Davy's hands were on his belt buckle. "Uh. I think…think we should – you could" –

Davy said, "Hmmm?" and pulled down his zipper. He tried to concentrate. "Do me. Put. Um. You could…fuck…um. Fuck me."

His cheeks went red with embarrassment. But there wasn't any better more delicate way of asking for what he wanted. He couldn't think of one anyway.

Davy didn't seem to object because after going very still for a second he almost lunged upwards, catching Peter's mouth with his own again and kissing him hard and frantic.

This made it a surprise when he finally pulled back and panted, "No."

It didn't make sense to Peter. "No," he repeated. Then he shook his head and said, "_No," _again. But this time it was a decision. He bent down and licked his way into Davy's mouth. He figured if Davy wasn't able to talk, then he wouldn't be able to cough up dumb refusals that made no sense. Also, it meant he got to put his tongue in Davy's mouth, which was now one of his tongue's favorite places to be.

He reached behind him and fumbled with the doorknob. Then he twisted and turned and maneuvered them out of the bathroom and into the hall without stopping kissing Davy. Davy twisted and turned obligingly and helped by nudging them in the direction of the bedroom when Peter got disoriented for a second.

Taking off their clothes was like a weird wrestling match. Peter managed to haul his off halfway and Davy took care of the other half. The same went for Davy. It wasn't organized enough for teamwork but it got the job done anyway.

He stopped Davy's hands when they reached down for his cock. "No," he said again. He turned and lay facedown on the bed instead.

He heard Davy breathe in sharp. But when he said, "Peter…" it sounded like "no."

"Yes," he insisted. He spread his legs a bit. "Like this."

It was awkward. He felt exposed. But it was worth it when he felt the bed dip with Davy's weight. He braced himself. But Davy put a hand on his thigh and said, "Together. Put your legs together."

He wasn't going to but. "Trust me," Davy said.

He pressed his thighs together. Davy swung his leg over him like a reward and leaned his chest against Peter's back. Then he moved. He let his cock slide between Peter's thighs. It wasn't what he had asked for. But every long slow thrust ended with the head of Davy's cock nudging his balls and it was _good_. Too good to argue with.

And it was _like_ what he'd wanted. Not enough and not exactly but enough that imagining what it looked like, what they looked like made him clench his thighs and rub his cock as much and hard as he could against the mattress. Davy groaned and he felt warm wetness between his legs suddenly. He jerked one more time hard against the drag of the bedclothes and came himself.

Davy moved off him. He pushed his face down into the bedclothes for a few minutes. Then he turned over and flopped back on his back. His legs were shaky. Davy touched his stomach, where he'd come.

When he had enough breath he said, "I still want to do it the other way. I still want you to – to fuck me."

Davy's fingers stopped trailing over his stomach. He could feel his cheeks turning red. But he kept looking at Davy. He didn't blink.

Davy was quiet for a while. Finally he said, "I…Pete. What we do – did…that's one thing. But. What you're talking about…that's. Serious."

Peter couldn't see the problem here. It was very simple. "Good. So is this."


	10. Chapter 10

**Thank you again to caramelkaren and O'FoggageGreen for reviewing and for advising me on how to make my story better. You really helped me!**

* * *

Davy went to sleep on the couch that night. "I'm sorry," he said while he was picking up his clothes.

"Stay," Peter said. He tried to catch his arm. "I didn't mean. We don't have to do anything right now. Just – _stay_."

Davy shrugged him off and shook his head. He didn't meet Peter's eyes.

It felt more lonely than when Davy'd been spending every night with girls. Maybe because Davy was _right there, _only a room away. Even curling up in Davy's bed just reminded him even more that Davy wasn't there. That he didn't want to be with Peter.

The next morning was bad too. Over breakfast and out of nowhere, Davy said, "I think we should switch rooms."

He stared down at his bowl. Peter stared at him.

"You and Pete want to sleep upstairs now?" Micky was confused.

"No." It came out so strong it made Peter flinch. "Just – just me."

It felt like Peter was swallowing spiky cogs instead of cereal.

"And what does Peter think about all this?" Mike said finally.

He looked up. "I don't want to change."

"That's not a problem. He can stay exactly where he is," Davy said. He sounded bright and hollow.

Peter could feel Mike looking at him. "Well. I don't think we should get into all this right now," he said. "We can talk about it after practice."

It wasn't a yes and it wasn't a no. Peter felt heavy and slow as he took out his guitar and set up. There was a pool of misery in his stomach, and when everyone was ready and they started their first song, he played a wrong note.

"That's okay. Let's try it again," Mike said.

They did. He played the same wrong note. "Sorry," he said.

Mike shook his head. "Let's go from the top."

They tried another song. And then another.

His fingers were being stupid and even though he knew all their songs backwards, it was like they were working slower than his brain. Like he had snails on the ends of his hands instead of fingers.

He stared at Davy's back and felt miserable as the tension grew tighter and tighter. Finally, as Peter fumbled his way through _Pleasant Valley Sunday, _Mike suddenly stopped playing. He hauled his guitar from around his neck and put it down. Everyone stopped. "That's it," he said. "That is _it_."

Peter's mouth was very dry. He licked his lips, getting ready to apologize.

But instead, Mike pulled Micky up from behind the drums and shoved him in the direction of the door. "_We_ are gonna go out for a while," he said. "And when we come back, this is all gonna be sorted out." He grabbed Davy's shoulder. "Fix this. _Now." _His voice was tight.

The door slammed shut. There was a very long silence. Then Davy sighed and sat down on the loveseat. He turned a maraca over in his hand.

Slowly, Peter put down his guitar. "I'm sorry Mike's mad. That's my fault."

Davy shook his head. "Nah. It's my fault."

Peter approached him. "I'm the one playing the wrong notes."

"Well I'm the one who upset you and made you play like that."

He didn't feel right sitting next to Davy. Actually, he just didn't think Davy would allow it. So he sat on the floor next to him instead.

"Do you really want to switch rooms?" Peter asked finally.

It hurt when Davy said, "Yeah. I'm sorry." He did sound sorry. But resolute.

It was hard to say anything, "Oh."

"It's just – it wasn't supposed to turn out like this," Davy explained. "It was just supposed to be" –

"Kids' stuff?" Peter finished. The words stung to say. Davy flinched. "Yeah," he said quietly.

"It didn't feel like kids' stuff." His voice was scratchy. "Not to me."

Davy looked away for a second. "I'm sorry. I should never have started this in the first place."

Peter didn't say anything. Because – yes. Davy should have never should've started this in the first place. But – "Then why did you?" He couldn't understand it. Davy had _so many_ girls. Surely he didn't _need _to have Peter on a string too.

Suddenly Davy didn't sound sure of himself at all. "I just. You looked…and you were upset…and I thought. One time. Once couldn't hurt."

He sounded so regretful. Like it was tearing him up inside too. He looked at Peter with soft, wanting eyes – like he knew how Peter felt. Like _he _felt the same way. It was cruel. Peter looked down at the floor.

"Are you – you gonna be alright?"

"Yeah." The word was flat. "That's how this works, isn't it?"

"It _is_," Davy insisted. "You just…you think, because it's your first time – that…that it's _different_. But it's not. Trust me – I _know. _You'll meet some girl and…" he stopped. "You'll be alright, Pete. Believe me."

He believed that Davy believed it. That that was how it happened for Davy. That last time, he'd just looked up and seen some girl and – that was it. No more kids' stuff. It probably wasn't the same for, "Your friend. Jim," he said. "How did it work for him?"

Davy frowned. "I told you. He met a girl. Mary-Louise." His mouth twisted a little on her name. "Nice girl. At least…from what I saw of her."

Peter could feel his eyebrows draw together. "What about you?"

Davy shrugged. It was a strangely awkward and lonely looking gesture. "Threw them a party when they got engaged. It was…" He stopped, then said again, "She was a nice girl."

It was like making a jigsaw the wrong way around, colored sides down – and then turning it around. The picture it made stunned him.

"Him? _He_ called it off? Jim?"

Davy smiled a bit wryly. "Yeah. Had to, didn't he? I mean…he'd just met the girl of his dreams. Couldn't be expected to keep doing – kids' stuff – after that."

He didn't say it harshly. He said it like he understood. Like it was inevitable. But Peter could see the hurt through his smile. "You. Did you – love him?"

"I thought I did," Davy said finally. "For a bit. But…I got over it. You will too." He reached out and stroked Peter's hair. "See – I _do_ know. And it's nice to think that you think…but it's not real."

"Why? Because that's not how it works?"

"Yeah." His hand was so gentle on Peter's head. He turned so that Davy's hand touched his cheek. He quickly withdrew it, but Peter kept the memory of it, and put that together with Davy's hugs and his soft whispers and the way he seemed just as cut up as Peter about this thing ending.

It didn't make sense. But for the first time Peter thought maybe it wasn't supposed to. "So why did you do it then? If you knew it was only going to end anyway."

"I didn't think it'd end like _this_. I never thought you'd think…and I wanted. I just wanted to – have you. For a little while."

"Because you wanted me. You want me." Peter stated it outright. Davy wasn't trying not to hurt him. He wasn't _hoping _that Peter was going to move on. He was _anticipating _it, and he was trying not get hurt himself.

It felt unreal but Davy didn't correct him. He pressed his face against Davy's knee. "I don't like your friend Jim," he said matter of factly.

"You never met him."

"Yeah. But he's an idiot." He rubbed his cheek against Davy's knee. "Because he chose someone else when he could have had _you._"

He could hear Davy take a breath in, but he said, "Don't think he'd see it quite like that."

"Then he's even more of an idiot."

Davy shook his head. "He made the right choice. The same one anyone would. The same one _you_ would" –

"No." Davy's knee was bony and his pants leg felt rough against his forehead as he shook his head.

Davy put his hands on his face, pulling his head up to look at him. "That's why I'm not going to let it get that far. Because you think it's different right now, but" –

"I _know _it's different," Peter interrupted. They stared at each other. "But – you can switch rooms, and I won't ever," his hand stroked over Davy's knee, his thigh, "ever ask you for this again…if you don't want me to."

Davy relaxed a little. "You won't?"

"But."

He tensed right back up. "But?"

"First, I want you to. To do it. Fuck me."

Immediately, "It's not a good idea."

"I know. But I want it. And…if it's the last time…"

"The last time?" Davy was intent. There was no lying to him.

"If you want it to be," he said. "Then it's the last time."

He stood up. After a second, so did Davy.

In the bedroom, after they'd stripped off their clothes, and Davy'd found a small tube of something in one of the dresser drawers, he said, "There are other things we could do, you know. It doesn't have to be – this."

Peter laid down on his bed, on his back. "If it's going to be the last time, I want to do this," he said. And, "I love you."

Davy jerked. But he didn't say anything in response to Peter's last words. "It's probably going to hurt," he warned.

"I don't care. I love you."

Davy swallowed. His voice didn't sound quite right as he said, "It'd be easier if you were on your stomach. Instead of your back."

"I love you and I want to do it like this," Peter said. He didn't move.

"Pete – don't…"

"Are you going to do this or not?" he asked. Then, when Davy finally knelt between his spread legs, "I love you."

"I can't – I kind of need to – to concentrate right now, Pete," Davy said. Peter grabbed one of his tightly clenched fists between his hands. "I have to say it now, because after this, I'm probably never going to be able to tell you again. I love you." He kissed Davy's clasped fingers.

Davy breathed in hard through his nose. He didn't say anything. He fiddled with the little tube and said, "Are you ready?"

"I love you. I'm ready."

He fought the urge to tense up when he felt a finger pressing against his entrance. He closed his eyes in discomfort as it slowly pressed in.

"Are you okay?" Davy asked.

"Okay," he gasped. "Love you."

Davy shook his head, like he had water in his ears, but he kept going doggedly. The discomfort eased a little as Davy worked his finger in and out. Then he added a second finger. "Tell me if it hurts."

"Just strange. I love you."

His fingers touched off something inside Peter, something that felt good. Davy smiled at the choked sound he made. He managed to pant, "Love you."

Davy closed his eyes. "I'm going to – going to do it now, okay?" His voice shook a little.

"Good. Good. Love you."

Davy adjusted his position a little, pulling Peter's hips up onto his thighs. It probably would have been easier if they'd done it the other way. Peter wrapped his legs around Davy's waist and said, "Love you so much. Do it. _Please_."

Davy's set determined expression twitched whenever he said the words. He began to press in and it was nothing like his fingers had been. Peter couldn't stop his face scrunching up.

"You okay? I can stop," Davy said, already withdrawing. Peter caught at his hips. Shook his head. "Don't stop. Love you, I love you, don't stop."

He held Davy's eyes until he nodded. And slowly he pushed in until he was all the way in. He stopped, giving Peter a minute to adjust.

He stared down at Peter, looking surprised and amazed. It was like looking in a mirror. "You're really…you _are. Oh, _I love you, I _love_ you," he said.

Davy bit his lip. "Pete – don't, I can't." But as he said it, he moved back and slowly thrust. Peter gasped as he hit that spot inside that sent flashes of pleasure down his spine. "Oh that's…do that again – that's, I love you, that's good…"

Davy pulled back. "Ssssh," he said.

"Love you," Peter managed, as he thrust again. And, "Love you, love you, so much, love you," with every subsequent thrust.

"Ssssh," Davy kept saying, as his pace sped up. "Sssh, sssh, sssh, _don't_."

"But I do, I _do, _I love you, _oh_."

Davy bent over him and put a hand over his mouth. His voice kept cracking. "Stop. Please. I. _oh. _Pete, I don't. I can't. Please – _oh. _You don't – won't, I" –

Peter held his eyes even though Davy was hitting that place inside him with every stroke and all he wanted to do was surrender to it. He kissed his palm. Davy shook his head desperately. "I don't – I can't, I – I" –

Peter just looked at him.

"_I love you_," Davy said, and came.

Afterwards, Davy lay next to him. He stroked his hair and kissed his temple until his eyes opened.

"I love you," he said.

Davy's mouth quivered a little, almost but not exactly amused. "Yeah…I think I got that."

"Do you believe it?" Davy didn't answer. Peter levered himself up so he was holding himself over Davy. "I can keep saying it until you believe me. I love you, I love you, I love" –

"Okay – okay! I believe you." Davy pulled him down again and buried his face in his neck. "Me too," he said more quietly. "I love you."

Peter waited. "Do you want me to go?"

Davy just pulled him closer. "No."

"Good."

After a minute, he said, "I still don't know how this is supposed to work though."

Peter tried not to tense.

Davy raised his head and said, carefully, "You. You might have to show me." He kissed the corner of his mouth. "If you want. If – you're sure."

Peter looked at him for a moment then managed to nod, jerkily. "I'm sure," he said.

And just in case it wasn't clear enough he pulled Davy in close and sealed it with a kiss.


End file.
